Extreme Quidditch
by artemisgirl
Summary: "Isn't it obvious, Malfoy? If everyone's desperately craving excitement because everything's been boring and mundane..." She leaned closer, lowering her voice, and Draco held his breath. "...then we'll give them something extreme."


**A/N:** Originally written for Round 1 of the Malfoy Manor 2012 Fic War at Granger Enchanted. Many thanks to Lauren for betaing!

**Disclaimer:** The characters and Harry Potter universe in the following story belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

* * *

"It's been a bit dull around here recently, hasn't it?"

Draco Malfoy dropped the parchments he'd been reading to give Hermione Granger, his Head of Acquisitions, an astounded stare.

Him staring at his Head of Acquisitions was nothing new, as he quite fancied her, and Draco liked to stare, especially when she wasn't looking and couldn't see him appreciating the curve of her bum in her robes or the swell of her breasts in her too-tight top. But this was a different kind of stare. This was an Astonished Stare, an Astounded Stare, and it indicated that she'd caught him off-guard, which was difficult to do.

"The entire firm's been in an uproar since we bought out Slug and Jiggers, on your suggestion, and we've been struggling like mad to assimilate the staff from Giantsloff to our way of doing things," he told her, incredulous. "If that's your idea of dull, I'd hate to see what you think is interesting."

Hermione smiled slightly, her lips twitching up in private amusement.

"I didn't really mean _here,_ as in here specifically," she said. "I meant, you know, _here_. Diagon Alley. The Wizarding World in general. Things have been a bit... mundane."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You mean things have been _normal_," he corrected. "Normal is a _good _thing, Granger. Need I remind you that not five years ago, Wizarding Britain was embroiled in a fight against a sociopathic megalomaniacal Dark wizard bent on genocide?"

Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "That was ages ago. Think about it. What's been in the papers now? All the Death Eaters have been rounded up, there are new policies in place about Muggle-born discrimination, and all students are taught magical self-protection. What's really been _happening?_"

"The election of Minister's coming up," Draco pointed out. "That's been-"

"-So unbelievably stodgy and boring that a flobberworm would die of the dullness," Hermione interrupted. "Shacklebolt and Weasley are both good candidates, so whichever of them wins is fine. No one really cares about any of the things they go on about in the debates – its' all 'cauldron-bottom regulations' and 'misusing Muggle artifacts.'"

"But that's _normal_," Draco reminded her. "Granger, this is what the world looks like when there's not a Dark Lord going around, destroying things."

"Then normality is _boring_," Hermione said decisively. "Admit it, Malfoy. You'd be bored out of your mind if I didn't keep you entertained here at the office with my brilliant acts of acquisition."

Malfoy glanced around the room, avoiding looking at her. He'd hated his job for the first two years, finding it dull and thankless work. Firing Pucey and hiring Hermione had been the best business decision he'd ever made, and not just because she'd saved his sanity.

"...Maybe it was a little dull," he admitted. "But that's because we were used to excitement, Granger. Hogwarts was mad, and with the Dark Lord-"

"But Malfoy, that's just it," Hermione said earnestly. "Our generation was _raised_ on excitement. In our most formative years, when we were formally became part of the Wizarding World as magical students, we were _besieged _with excitement and danger. There was the Chamber of Secrets fiasco, Sirius Black escaping Azkaban, the Triwizard Tournament, the return of Voldemort, Umbridge, Voldemort's gaining power, the Carrows at the school, the Final Battle... there was something _every year_, Malfoy. With all the excitement, we became used to it, and now that things are 'normal', we think it's all boring and dull."

"Not everyone thinks-"

"Ginny Potter just had her first baby a week ago, Malfoy, and do you know what the first thing she said afterward was?" Hermione said, giving him a pointed look. "She said she'd thought it would hurt more. She didn't have any pain spells or _anything, _and she was disappointed that the baby came out a bit slimy and wrinkly, but otherwise utterly normal-looking. It was as if she'd expected it to come out covered in blood and trying to kill her."

Draco shifted uneasily. "Potter and his wife are just a bit unhinged," he argued. "They went through so much during the War-"

"And then, just yesterday morning, I ran into Dennis Creevey in the Ministry. Do you know what he was doing?" Hermione asked, steamrolling over Draco's objections. "He was going through the Vault of Dangerously Enchanted Items. He was going through them one by one, touching and cataloging them all. Said he'd _volunteered_ for the job. He got excited when one of the rings finally bit off his finger."

Draco winced.

"_Everyone_ I know from school is _bored,_ Malfoy. The only ones that aren't, really, are me, you, and Zabini, and we're all working here. Even _Harry_ is bored, and he's out chasing Dark wizards across continents, but there's just not enough Dark wizards around anymore to really provide a challenge."

Draco sighed.

"So maybe things have been a bit mundane," he said. "Fine. But what can we do about it? _Life_ is mundane."

Hermione turned to him, a slow smile spreading across her lips. The twitch of her lips was mischievous, the glint in her eyes slightly dangerous, and Draco felt his breath catch, his throat suddenly dry.

"Isn't it obvious, Malfoy? If everyone's desperately craving excitement because everything's been boring and mundane..."

She leaned closer, lowering her voice, and Draco held his breath.

"...then we'll give them something _extreme."_

* * *

Hermione's first idea for their Extreme line was a new Quidditch League.

Draco had objected strenuously, pointing out that diving around on broomsticks wasn't exactly safe in the first place and that sports were inherently exciting, but Hermione had only rolled her eyes.

"All brooms have a million anti-falling jinxes and cushioning charms on them," she'd pointed out. "And how exciting is it, really, to see people playing with a bunch of balls when there's no element of danger?"

Then she'd made him watch tapes of Muggle American football games while she ran the numbers, and in the end, Draco had had to concede that an element of danger and a bit of blood would probably make things a bit more exciting for the spectators.

He gave her free reign over the project; this was Hermione Granger, after all – everything she did turned out brilliantly, even if it was a bit unusual. He'd been a bit worried that her suggestion would be tacky, though – he could just imagine the Malfoy Brand being dragged through the mud with Quidditch players flying over giant pits of lava...

In the end, her change to the game was simplistic, but brilliant.

The players would be allowed their wands.

* * *

"...You want me to _what?_"

Draco bit his tongue as Hermione carefully explained the idea to her friend again.

"We want you to play for our Extreme Quidditch League, Harry," she said. "Games'll be on the weekends, so you won't have to miss work, and it'll be good for you – keep you active and young."

"Not that you're not already active," Malfoy said hurriedly. "Being an Auror and all, I'm sure you-"

Potter looked up from Hermione's proposal and gave Malfoy a dark look, .

"Are you being snide?" he asked. "Most exciting thing I did last week was pick up a 11 year-old from Hogwarts for Dark Magic. Someone had reported him of attempting the Killing Curse. Turns out, the poor boy was a Muggle-born, and he'd only said "Abracadabra" on the train to school, not "Avada Kedavra". I gave him a bit of a stern talking to, explained to the kids in his class that "Abracadabra" was what Muggles thought magic sounded like, and then went back to the office and filled out fifteen different forms in triplicate about what had happened."

Draco shot Hermione an uneasy look. She ignored it.

"That's exactly why this league would be so good for you, Harry," Hermione urged. "Children nowadays don't have any real conception of excitement – they're desperately seeking drama in ridiculous places. If they had real people to look up to that they saw doing exciting things, like Quidditch players, they'd stop wasting your time with bogus reports."

Potter snorted.

"Quidditch isn't exactly all that exciting either, Hermione," Harry said. "Ginny and I go 'round Ron's now and again and have a pick-up game with the twins."

"But this will be different, Harry," Hermione said earnestly. "In Extreme Quidditch, you can use your wand."

There was a pause.

Draco watched Potter curiously. He had seemed bored when they first arrived, then annoyed, then resigned. But now, something was slowly creeping onto his face. It looked to be a mix of excitement and shock waging war across his face. Excitement seemed to win out, and when he looked back up to Hermione, his eyes were reverent.

"Blimey, 'Mione," he said. "I'm in. Can I form my own team?"

* * *

Word had spread, and before a couple months had gone by, Draco had six teams signed up for the Extreme Quidditch League.

Potter had recruited his friends from school to be on his team – Ron was Keeper, the Weasley twins his beaters, and Ginny, Luna, and Cho were his Chasers. They'd adopted a lightning bolt as their team symbol, which Draco had thought unreasonably egotistical of Potter, but Hermione had defended it.

"At least it's highly recognizable," she'd told him. "That's good branding. And besides, I think they've all been working on a jinx to hit someone on their broom with a lightning strike. It might have nothing to do with Harry's scar."

Zabini had formed a team as well, as soon as he'd gotten wind of the project round the office. He'd owled Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Claude Warrington, and Theodore Nott, as well as Crabbe and Goyle. Thought they didn't make a team particularly skilled at flying, they made a very intimidating team in terms of spellwork. Draco had made a mental note to ask Hermione if she'd made sure Fiendfyre was on the list of prohibited spells, but somehow he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Ernie Macmillan had formed a team of his old school mates, though none of them were people Draco particularly remembered. Justin, he thought he'd heard of – he'd been petrified, hadn't he? - and Anthony Goldstein and and Terry Boot had been in his Arithmancy class, but he didn't remember hearing about the others – a Hannah, Kevin, and Padma, whoever they were.

Snape had formed a team, too, composed almost entirely of ex-Death Eaters. Both Lestrange brothers were on the team as beaters, after having been proven to being manipulated under the Imperius by Bellatrix, as well as Mulciber, Avery, and Macnair, who'd all served their sentences and become Chasers. Most humiliatingly, however, was that his own father had joined the team – Lucius Malfoy, who'd never ridden a broom, deeming them 'undignified', was playing Keeper. Draco was praying that his father wasn't complete crap on a Cleansweep – he'd die of shame around the office.

A completely Australian team had also joined. Hermione had sent word to her parents of her new project, and a week later, seven expatriates had shown up, brooms in hand, ready to have a go at being Quidditch players. They'd said they were from the ARL, and though Draco didn't know what the ARL was, Hermione had granted them instant teamship.

Most interestingly was the last team, however. Kingsley Shacklebolt had formed a team of ex-Aurors and Order members, and had publicized his team loudly and widely, perhaps to benefit his political aspirations. Lupin, Tonks, and Sirius Black were on the team, as well as Sturgis Podmore, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Mad-Eye Moody. Draco had wondered if publicly aligning himself with such a crackpot as Moody would do Shacklebolt any good politically, before shrugging it off. Arthur Weasley was winning in the polls – Shacklebolt would need any edge he could get.

All in all, six teams was an okay number to have in a start-up league. Each team playing each other team twice was a total of 30 games, not counting the five play-off games that would culminate in a winning team of the league. Hermione had found and rented an old stadium for half a year, and each weekend, two matches would be played. The extra time gave the teams time to schedule practices on the field, as well as in the Dueling Room Hermione had set up underneath the stands.

As the time for the debut match grew nearer, and Hermione's marketing campaign grew fiercer, Draco felt himself getting excited despite himself.

It'd been a long time since he'd been excited about _Quidditch, _but with Hermione's spin on it, suddenly Quidditch didn't seem nearly so mundane.

* * *

"So, Granger," Draco said, climbing up the stairs behind her. "What did the Top Box cost us?"

Though he couldn't see her face, Draco was sure Hermione rolled her eyes.

"_We_ get the Top Box free, as we own the entire league," she told him. "It costs _other_ wizards 100 Galleons for a seat. 200, for this debut match, as it's been so widely advertised."

"_200 Galleons?_ To see Quidditch?" Draco said, astounded. "I don't think our seats that the _World Cup_ cost that much..."

"As if you paid for your seats there," Hermione scoffed. "Your Dad bribed Fudge for them, remember?"

"Oh. Well, I'm sure they didn't cost the Minister that much."

Hermione scoffed again.

When they finally reached the Top Box, Draco had to stop himself from gaping.

It was _full._

Nearly every seat in the Top Box was full, and it must have held 50 people. At 200 Galleons apiece, that was _ten thousand Galleons_. From _one_ box.

He felt reassured of his brilliance with this Extreme Quidditch venture. Clearly, letting Hermione handle the entire thing had been an excellent decision. Draco wisely patted himself on the back.

"Our seats are up front, Malfoy. Come on."

He followed Hermione, gingerly stepping over people's toes, before taking his seat right in the center of the front row. It was a bit cramped, and he shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. Hermione was shifting too, and when she settled, her thigh was touching his.

Draco tried to look completely bored and unaffected. It wouldn't do to have her thinking he was some pathetic lad desperately turned on by a girl's thigh touching his.

Though he _was_. But that was only because it was Hermione's thigh, and he'd secretly fancied her for forever. But still, he wouldn't want her to know about that, so it was better she didn't realize just how much he liked his leg alongside hers.

In an effort to distract himself, Draco tore his gaze from her leg to look around arrogantly, before goggling at the sight of the stadium.

It was _huge_.

The stadium must have held nearly 50,000 people, and it looked to be almost entirely full. Draco mentally ran the numbers in his head – there were only roughly 62,000 witches and wizards in the entire UK, plus another 5,000 from Ireland, which meant that those attending were... _nearly 75% of the wizard population?_

Seeing his dumbstruck face, Hermione leaned over to whisper.

"It's not as marvelous as you think. A lot of the people here bought discounted family packs and promotional tickets I made with our advertisers. I made international ads as well, especially in Australia. I thought it was important to have a full stadium for our first match, though – it makes the league look legitimate."

Draco nodded wordlessly, looking around.

The stadium seemed to be full with a wide assortment of wizards, wearing everything from Muggle garb to full robes. Peering through the Omnioculars he'd brought along, Draco could recognize several players from the National Quidditch League among the spectators, which tickled him silly. And a lot of the spectators were wearing-

"Red," Hermione murmured, "is the Lightning Bolts' official color, with gold accents. The Weasleys took to marketing their team with a vengeance – I don't think any of the other teams have worked nearly so hard."

"Who are all the gold and green people?" Draco asked, pointing.

"The Australian fans. They bought tickets in droves. Rather surprising, actually. They named their team the Wallabies, after the rugby league they all played in. I think all their wizarding rugby fans decided to come along."

Draco scanned the crowd.

"No patches of blue and black, really," he said, smiling despite himself. "Nice to see my father doesn't have fans."

Hermione smirked. "There's no purple around either. Poor Kingsley."

"Nice to see Zabini managed somewhat of a crowd, though," Draco said, gesturing to the bunches of silver. "It'd be embarrassing, an employee in the league not having proper support."

Hermione shook her head. "I think Marcus Flint owled every Slytherin from the past two decades with threats. No idea why – they're playing the Lightning Bolts in the first match, and the Serpents are expected to lose."

"How," Draco said, rounding on Hermione, "is a team expected to lose when no one's seen them play yet?"

Hermione laughed.

"Oh, Malfoy, you really are naïve, aren't you?" she teased. "Reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ have been sneaking into practiced for months now, and they've been interviewing all the players on their dueling techniques for weeks."

Draco blinked.

"-I only approved this project six months ago," he objected. "How could you possibly have gotten everyone whipped into such a frenzy so quickly?"

Hermione grinned.

"I'm a genius," she told him matter-of-factly. "I told you everyone was sick of the mundane. I just gave them a bit of excitement, and everyone leapt at the chance to lap it up."

A sudden loud trumpeting startled Draco, and the crowd grew silent.

"I hired Lee Jordan to be commentator, and Madame Hooch to be referee," Hermione whispered at his side.

"Madame Hooch?" Draco hissed back at her. "Is that really wise?"

"She was the only one qualified," Hermione shot back. "None of the other referees had ever dealt with dodging spellfire on brooms before."

Draco watched as Potter approached Flint and shook his hand, both glaring daggers at the other team.

"...Granger," he said slowly. "I know you wanted this to be extreme and exciting, but what kind of restrictions on jinxing did you put in the rules?"

"What do you mean?"

He watched them mount their brooms with a growing sense of dread.

"What are and aren't they allowed to do to each other in terms of spells?"

"Well, this is still Britain, so all outside laws still stand. That means no Unforgivables, of course. But beyond that-" Hermione shrugged. "I didn't put any rules down regarding what players can and can't do to each other on brooms. They've all signed waivers, and there's medical staff standing by if need be."

"You put _no restrictions_ on spells?"

"Why do you sound so panicked?" Hermione asked him, her tone pointed. "Hush, now, it's starting. It'll all be brilliant. You'll see."

With a growing sense of doom, Malfoy watched numbly as Hooch blew her whistle, and the players launched themselves into the air.

* * *

"-and that's Potter, with another Disarming Spell at Pucey, and Pucey's lost the Quaffle! Pucey retaliates with a Bone Bashing Hex, but Potter dodges, and now Ginny Weasley has the Quaffle, hurling Bat Bogey hexes as she goes down the field, now-"

Draco watched, riveted, torn between excitement and terror at all the spells flying around the field.

"-And Weasley's broom's been hit with _Reducto_!"

The crowd screamed as Ginny plunged toward the earth in a free fall.

"-And Potter's got her with a quick _Wingardium Leviosa _and _Levicorpus_! Good show!"

Draco watched, numb, as Potter caught up with his wife and pulled her onto his broom, before taking off in search of the Snitch once more.

"The Weasley Twins seem upset about the attack on their sister! They're now casting the Flagrante Curse on the Bludgers!"

The Snakes howled as the Bludgers ricocheted around, burning their arms on contact.

"Flint casts Furnunculus at Lovegood, who's got the Quaffle, but Lovegood dodges and scores! 60-30 Lightning Bolts!"

The crowd cheered madly, waving red pennants and screaming themselves hoarse.

"Uh oh, looks like Crabbe didn't like that! I think he's casting- yes, he's summoned Fiendfyre!"

The players scattered as a giant snake of fire poured out of Crabbe's wand, chasing them around the pitch. Draco watched in horror as they fled, Crabbe barely controlling his shaking wand while Lee Jordan gave the crowd background information about the curse.

"-largely considered a Dark Curse, it'll pursue any human target if it's left burning long enough, and- oh! Look at Chang!"

Cho was flying alongside the fire serpent, her wand out, aiming at its head. Suddenly, the fire serpent stopped in mid-air, before charging after the Snakes.

"And I do believe she's used the Imperius Curse! An Unforgivable, to be sure, but only when cast against a human! Look at it go!"

The serpent engulfed Goyle in flames, and moments later, he was plummeting to the ground atop a pile of cinders, his hair on fire as he fell.

"And Goyle crashes to the ground, with none of the Snakes to his rescue! According to the Extreme Quidditch charter, that means he's off the field for the rest of the game-"

Mediwitches hurried onto the field, helping Goyle hobble off, and Draco stared, astonished he could have survived from such a height-

"Powerful cushioning charm on the ground," Hermione whispered at his side. "Actual fatalities would raise moral inquiries. But it was sure exciting to watch him fall, wasn't it?"

Draco shook his head in astonishment, his eyes glued to the match.

"It looks like Crabbe's finally managed to control and put out his Fiendfyre, just as Lovegood scores her third goal in a row – that's 90-30 now for the Lightning Bolts – and Zabini's pulled out a second wand, aiming for Lovegood-"

Zabini slashed in the air violently, a streak of red racing towards Luna.

"Oh, and she's shielded at the last second-! The curse rebounds back – watch out, Warrington-!"

Intent on the Quaffle, Claude fumbled for his wand, casting a shielding charm a second too late, and the curse hit his outstretched arm.

"And it's _Diffindo!_ Oh wow, I've never seen that cast on a human before-"

Draco watched through his Omnioculars in horror. Claude was clearly screaming his head off, grasping the stump of his arm, which was spraying blood everywhere.

"It looks like Flint's caught the other half of Warrington's arm, and he's called a time out! The mediwitches are coming onto the field-"

Shoving the Omnioculars aside, Draco grabbed Hermione, forcing her to look at him.

"Are you mad?" he hissed. "This is insane. I've never seen such violence, not even from Voldemort!"

Hermione sniffed.

"That's a lie, and you know it," she said huffily. "No one's permanently damaged, no one's being tortured, no one's being killed, and they're all _loving_ it, Malfoy! Just look at them!"

"The audience is _sick_, then," Draco said, folding his arms.

"Not them, Draco! Look at the players!"

Dragging his Omnioculars back to his face, Draco quickly scanned the field again.

Both teams were crowded around Claude, who was having his arm reattached. Potter, Ginny Weasley, Flint, and Zabini were yelling at each other fiercely, and the Weasley Twins were eyeing up Crabbe and Goyle as if they'd fancy a chance to clobber them.

They all looked like they were having a blast.

"I don't think they've ever had such an adrenaline rush," Hermione murmured to Draco. The crowd cheered suddenly, and she moved nearer to be heard. "Can you imagine? The chance to really let loose and show everything you've got-"

Draco lost his focus, his mind becoming uncomfortably aware of how close Hermione was, how warm her breath was on his ear. She was still talking, but all Draco could think about was kissing her soft, pink lips.

Her lips stopped moving, and Draco belatedly realized she was waiting for a response.

"-I guess you have a point," he said, breathless.

Hermione beamed at him, and Draco realized he had no idea what he'd just agreed with.

"We'll go on Tuesday, after work," Hermione told him. "I expect we'll be flooded on Monday with the success of the League, so it'll take at least two days for us to get it all in order-"

Something in his mind clicked.

"-wait, like a _date?_" Draco said incredulously.

Hermione gave him an annoyed look.

"I just _said_ that. Wear jeans and trainers, and something warm up top. I'll meet you in front of the office at 6. Oh, look, they're starting again-"

She put her own Omnioculars back to her face, watching the game avidly. Draco stared at her for a long moment, before turning to watch the rest of the match.

Crabbe was flying around on half a broom, now, and Fred Weasley seemed to have charmed his Beater's bat to fly around and bludgeon Flint's face. Potter dived for the Snitch, Ginny still on his broom, and Zabini not far behind them, both pursued by a fierce tangle of spells.

As exciting as it was, Draco found himself suddenly distracted with this new information.

He had a date with Hermione.

He had a _date_ with Hermione.

He had a date with _Hermione._

He had a _date _with _Hermione_.

Draco had never felt so excited in his entire life.

* * *

Draco had arrived at their appointed meeting point ten minutes early. He'd dithered about his attire for half the day, before finally settling on a black designer sweater and dark denims. He'd carefully styled his hair to look casually disheveled, and he wondered if he'd put a bit too much thought into picking a pair of trainers that matched.

"Malfoy!"

He turned to see as Hermione came rushing toward him, smiling widely. Her hair was flying wildly behind her in a riot of curls, and she was wearing a lovely dusty pink sweater, cut in an attractive V, and she'd worn close-fitting denims with decorative studs on them.

Draco was suddenly possessed with the urge to sweep her up and plant a kiss solidly on her lips.

"Granger," he said, hoping she didn't notice how husky his voice had suddenly gotten.

"We've sold out of season tickets!" Hermione told him, beaming. "I got the owl just as I got home. And Gringotts wants to do a promotion with us, as does Ollivander's..."

Her eyes were sparkling with light and life, and Draco found himself mesmerized.

"So, are you ready?"

Draco dragged himself back down to earth.

"Sure," he said. He chanced a lie, "Though, I don't think you've told me exactly what we'll be doing-"

"We'll look at all the Extreme spinoffs, first," Hermione said, winding her arm through his. "Then we'll go on the date."

Draco blinked.

"The first bit doesn't count as part of the date?" he asked, and Hermione laughed.

"You didn't pay attention to a word I said at the match, did you?" she said, ruefully. "No matter. You'll figure it out. Come on."

Helpless, Draco trailed along.

They took the tube, and Hermione took the opportunity to talk with him about the success of the match on Saturday.

"No one expected the draw between the Skulls and Aurors," Hermione said happily. "It was such a match, though, that both teams' licensed paraphernalia is flying off the shelves. Quality Quidditch Supplies can't keep up with the demand! Shame about the Dragons, though, getting crushed like that by the Wallabees..."

The Australian team had flown magnificently, managing to dodge nearly every curse sent at them by the Dragons, and not casting a single one of their own. Instead, the players used a purely physical strategy, beating and punching the Dragons brutally while still in the air. The crowd had been shocked by the unexpected turn of events, but the Australian fans had cheered fanatically.

"Ernie's enrolled his team in karate lessons now, though, which is good, and both the Lightning Bolts and the Snakes are now taking Krav Maga, which is a bit excessive, but it's not against the rules, I suppose," Hermione prattled on. "But the best news is, five new teams have already signed up, and we've gotten preliminary information requests from fourteen more across the continent! We're going to have to rent out another stadium, I think, or make a European league as well-"

"How much money is all this making us?" he finally asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Plenty," she said. "More than you could ever dream to spend."

"Good," said Draco, pleased. "You should give yourself a bonus."

"I already did," Hermione told him, her lips twitching in amusement.

"Oh. Well, good," he said. "This is all your idea, so you deserve one, really."

Hermione rolled her eyes but laughed slightly in amusement, before settling down and resting her head on his shoulder. Draco's throat abruptly dried up.

"It's so exciting now, Draco," she murmured, and Draco could feel her words in her neck against his arm. "You should have seen Diagon Alley on Sunday. Everyone was buzzing about the game. Everyone was so excited, kids were signing up for dueling lessons at all the bookstores, parents were showing their teens some of the lighter spells– it was wonderful, Draco. Nothing seemed mundane or boring at all."

Draco smiled.

"I'm glad you're happy," he told her, impulsively running a hand through her hair. "It makes me happy to see you happy."

Hermione stopped, and Draco froze. Dread mounted in his stomach as she sat up and gave him a quizzical look.

"Malfoy-" she said. "What-"

"Oh, look, we're here," Malfoy said quickly. "Let's go. Now."

They hurried off the train into London and to Diagon Alley, and Draco was immensely relieved that the streets were loud enough to prevent Hermione from asking what all that had been about.

Especially since he didn't know what to tell her. He hardly knew himself.

* * *

"Extreme ice cream?"

Florean Fortescue nodded enthusiastically.

"Each team got to help decide on their flavor," he explained. "I helped, of course. You wouldn't _believe_ what some of them thought would taste good. But all the flavors are selling like mad, and I've had to restock three times already!"

Draco peered at the flavors through the window.

"Chocolate and jalapeno?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Potter's gone mad."

"It's a bestseller," Hermione told him. "Try it. It's very good, but it's got quite a kick."

In the end, he did, getting both a scoop of the Lightning Bolt Blast and the Skulls' Revenge.

"That's the one I didn't like at all," Hermione said, eyeing the black ice cream warily. "I've never liked black licorice. And the color is disturbing."

"What's your favorite, then?" Draco asked, trying Potter's chocolate. "The Australians' Kakadu Crunch?"

"That is quite good, but I really like Blaise's," Hermione admitted. "I've never tasted something so oddly sharp. And the color – I don't know if I've ever seen such a bright blue in a food."

Draco preened. "I helped with that," he told her. "Blue raspberry's quite popular in America, but it's still a novelty around here."

Hermione smiled at him approvingly, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Ernie's Stilton Cheese flavor is doing quite good as well," she told him. "The Skulls' Revenge is probably doing the worst. I think people are put off the color and all the green skulls."

Draco glanced down at his ice cream. The green sugar skulls were a bit eerie, but thoroughly in line with the Death Eater brand Snape's team had established for itself.

"They're being consistent. And they're using a highly recognizable symbol," he told her, grinning. "That's good branding."

Hermione stared at him, before breaking out into laughter.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "I'm just glad they didn't use the straight Dark Mark. That'd have almost been too extreme, I think. We'd have protestors by the thousands."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "Glad they didn't have the stones to try it, then," he said. "I'd have rejected it, anyway, if they'd tried.

Hermione glanced at him, before turning back to her ice cream. Draco looked at his own ice cream, pretending he couldn't feel his inactive Dark Mark burning on his arm, forever staining him.

"You'll like the games," Hermione said, artfully changing the subject. "They're flying off the shelves. Parents are buying them for their kids for Christmas."

"That reminds me – why didn't you run any of this by me beforehand?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

To his astonishment, Hermione flushed.

"You said I could handle it all," she said defensively. "It didn't need your approval."

Draco gave her a puzzled look.

"I know that," he said, "but you usually like to collaborate with me a least a little bit, to get a second opinion on your ideas or get some new input."

She shifted uneasily in her chair, before sighing. She looked up at him through her hair and eyelashes, and Draco was struck by how vulnerable she looked.

"I guess I just wanted to do a big project entirely on my own," she said, her voice soft. "I've been at the company for a few years now, but I've never managed anything big – I always just give you the ideas, and you delegate them to someone else."

Draco looked at her, feeling shell shocked.

"Hermione," he said, searching for words. "Hermione, I- I know you can manage things great – I've always known that. It's just – other people can manage things too, and not everyone's as brilliant as you to find new areas for us to expand into or coming up with supplanting strategies-"

"Did you just call me brilliant?"

Her voice was so quiet, Draco nearly thought he'd imagined her words, but her face had flushed a deep red.

"You are brilliant," he told her firmly, taking her hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb. "I've always known that. I thought you knew I knew it, too. It just went unsaid."

"It's not like I was desperately seeking your approval," Hermione said quickly, moving to tug her hand away.

Draco caught it in midair, holding it for a long moment as his eyes met hers.

"I know. But it's okay to want it, too."

Their gaze stayed locked for a long minute, before she finally broke away.

"We should get going," she said, her tone businesslike. "We have to stop at the game shop, still, and they'll be closing soon."

As they left Florean's Ice Cream Parlor, Draco reflected on the intense moment they'd shared in the shop.

He wondered if he'd truly seen desire flickering in Hermione's eyes, or if it'd just been him projecting his own feelings onto hers as well.

* * *

"So these are the new Gobstones?" Draco said, weighing a set in his hand. "What's the difference with these?"

"Instead of playing for points, you play for blood."

Draco whirled around and stared at Hermione, who shrugged.

"They're quite popular," she insisted. "You aim at your opponent's knuckles instead of a target. The game ends when one person draws blood from the other."

"That's insane," Draco said flatly. "No parent is going to buy these for their children."

Hermione smirked. "We've already sold 300 sets."

"What about Exploding Snap?" Draco said, picking up the sample deck out on display. "How have these become extreme?"

"The explosions are no longer self-contained immolations," Hermione explained. "They have a bit of a bang, now, and they can singe the players' hands if they're not quick."

A little more carefully, Draco put the cards back.

"And Chess?" he asked, turning to look at the sample board.

"The pieces bleed, now," she said, gesturing to the prison of captured pieces. "And if you make too many bad moves, your captured pieces will rebel and attack your hands."

"This is all so _violent_," Draco said watching as a queen beheaded a pawn at his command. "Doesn't it make you a bit queasy?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. I saw so much real violence during the war, I suspect I've become desensitized."

"But you want to spread that violence around?"

"It's not spreading violence so much as creating an illusion of danger," Hermione pointed out. "No one's going to get seriously injured from sore knuckles or a temporary singed hand. The chess pieces bleed, sure, but they barely look humanoid, and chess is supposed to be a reflection of war, anyway. You can't have extreme things without the appearance of a risk."

"And some of the risks have to be fake?" Draco said, picking up a gobstone.

"Exactly."

"So what else is there?" Draco asked, stacking a few gobstones on top of each other. "What else do we have that's actually extreme?"

"We have an Extreme Dueling League set up," Hermione told him, pointing to a poster advertising it on the wall. "Wizards duel in complete darkness. There are also Random Wand rounds, where you fight with a faulty wand. The only other thing we have under our direct control is the Extreme Dating, and everything else we'll leave to licensing."

Draco's ears perked up. "Extreme Dating?" he questioned. "Is that where you're taking me tonight?"

Hermione gave him an amused look.

"You know, you _said_ at the match that you'd like the chance to do something exciting and adrenaline-rushing yourself," Hermione said.

"I did not," Draco objected. "I said that you had a point."

"When you say 'you have a point' in response to me saying 'Malfoy, you know you'd love to come along on an extreme date and have an adrenaline rush,' that's you saying you want to do something exciting."

Draco floundered for an appropriate response that didn't make him look like an idiot for not knowing what he'd agreed to. Hermione watched him, smirking.

"If you're quite through, our date starts at 8," she said, her eyes sparkling. "If you're ready to go?"

She took his hand to lead him out of the toy shop, and just to spite her, Draco didn't let go.

* * *

"Jumping off a bridge is a date?" Draco said, astonished. "Granger, this is insane."

"It's called 'bungee jumping', and there's a market for it," Hermione explained, standing still for the instructor to check her harness. "You'll get an incredible rush from it, I promise. And there's science to back it up – the Misattribution of Arousal Paradigm says that couples feel more attracted to each other after going through an exciting and dangerous event. Plus, it's fun. I promise, Malfoy, you'll be fine."

"This thing isn't even _magic_," Draco said, tugging at his harness. "How can this be safe?"

"Magic can give out and technology can fail, so they're not completely safe," Hermione said. "This works on physics, Malfoy – it won't fail. Ready?"

She stepped closer to the ledge, and Draco fought the urge to bolt.

"Granger, I really don't think this is a good idea-"

"Hush, Malfoy. Are you ready?"

"Yes, but-"

"On three, then. One, two-"

"Granger!"

"Three!"

She leapt off the edge, her arms spread out in a graceful swan dive. Draco watched as she fell, his mouth open in horror.

"Oh, go on, you," the instructor said grumpily, and the next thing Draco knew, he was hurtling through the air toward the river below.

Draco screamed, but he could scarcely hear himself, the blood pounding in his ears was so loud. The cold wind cut at his cheeks, and he shrieked as the river loomed up ahead.

Suddenly, he felt himself slowing, before he _boinged_ and went flying upwards again, like he was on the end of a giant elastic band. Astonished, Draco looked around himself frantically, not entirely sure what had happened.

Hermione was laughing, falling back down again, and Draco watched as she _boinged _up again closer to him. She was laughing, her hair flying in the wind, her cheeks rosy and wind-kissed from the fall.

"Having fun, Malfoy?" she yelled to him, grinning widely as he started to fall again.

This time, he was prepared, and he spread his arms like a bat as he fell toward the earth, laughing as he reached the end of his tether and _boinged_ back up again.

When they finally hung straight and still, they were still laughing, Hermione making fun of him for being scared, Draco mocking her for being deranged, jumping off a bridge like that. They kept laughing and teasing as they climbed back up onto the bridge.

Hermione took a step toward the instructor to have him unharness her, but Draco grabbed her shoulder. She turned toward him, her eyes questioning.

"Let's go again," Draco said, impulsive. "We'll go down together this time."

Hermione's eyes sparkled.

"Okay."

A couple of self-cushioning charms later, so they wouldn't get hurt if they crashed heads, Draco stood at the ledge with Hermione, holding her hand and looking down a the river below.

"One, two, three!"

He leapt, and he was falling, Hermione falling alongside him, and she was laughing and shrieking, and he was laughing and yelling as well. The wind was in her hair, her cheeks a bright red, her eyes full of excitement as they neared the bottom, and then they _boinged_ up again, flying in different directions, shrieking from the thrill of it all, before meeting again at the bottom and grabbing each other, _boinging_ up together again, laughing and shrieking and flying.

Draco had never felt more alive.

* * *

"I still say that was insane," Draco said, pointing at Hermione with his fork.

"It was," Hermione said, her eyes alight. "But it was fun, wasn't it though?"

Draco couldn't deny his smile. "It was a lot of fun."

He was still coming off of his adrenaline high. After they'd jumped another few times, to the consternation of the instructor, he'd looked at Hermione, in her pretty sweater with her mussed hair, and he hadn't wanted the night to end just yet. He'd invited her out for tiramisu, and she'd accepted with a smile, neither of them mentioning that they'd already had ice cream as a dessert earlier.

"We'll have sky diving and water skiing too," Hermione said, taking another bite. "Maybe jet skiing and parasailing – I have to look into it still. But it'll be wildly popular."

"It will," Draco said, grinning. "Guys will leap at the excuse to take their dates out boogie jumping."

"_Bungee_ jumping, Malfoy."

"Whatever."

They sat in a contented silence, eating their dessert outside, looking up at the night sky. Draco felt like he couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't felt this at peace in a long time. It was as if the terrifying fall through the sky had been a catharsis, and suddenly, he felt free of all the guilt and self-doubts that had been weighing him down for so long.

"Malfoy," Hermione said suddenly. He turned to look at her, and she tilted her head.

"Yes?" he said, curious.

"If you didn't realize I wanted to show you the Extreme Dating attraction, why'd you agree to come?"

Draco froze.

Hermione didn't look condemning, he noticed. She just looked curious, he thought, and cute, her hair still in riots from the fall.

Remembering the feeling of freedom he'd felt when he'd taken the plunge off the bridge, Draco took a deep breath.

"I'd caught the dating bit," he admitted. "I thought you'd asked me out on a proper date. I'd never have turned that down – not after I'd been working up the courage to ask you out for two years now."

Hermione stared at him, and Draco felt his face start to turn red.

"You fancy me?" she asked, and her tone was one of wonder. "Really?"

Despite his embarrassment, Draco found this funny.

"Christ, Hermione, I've fancied you since third year when you slapped me," he told her, settling back and folding his arms. "You're intimidating as hell, though – perfect at everything, gorgeous-looking, never giving any indication that you were looking for anyone – you can't blame me for not getting up the courage to ask you on a proper date."

Hermione flushed at his compliments, but met his eyes squarely.

"So you left it to me, the Gryffindor, to be the courageous one?" she asked him.

Draco swallowed. "Something like that."

"And even though you realize I didn't mean to ask you out, you're telling me this anyway?

Draco shrugged, his heart beating fast. "I just jumped off a bridge with you. I think I can get up the courage to be honest about my feelings for once, now."

Hermione watched him for a long time, before a smile slowly spread across her face, and she started to laugh.

"Good," she said finally. "I'm glad. Even if it took you bungee jumping to get up the courage."

"You are?"

Her eyes sparkled at him. "I've been waiting for you to ask me out for over a year now, Draco. I would've asked you, if I'd known you fancied me, but you never gave me any indication."

"Didn't want to risk you claiming sexual harassment or leaving the company in a huff," he admitted. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Hermione."

She laughed. "You'd go down in flames within a week."

He made a face. "Oh, shut up."

"Make me," she teased, impish.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, he reached over to shut her mouth with his hand, but his hand went to her arms instead, and the next thing he knew, he'd pulled her onto his lap and sealed his mouth over hers, and she was kissing him back, winding her arms around his neck.

By the time they stopped for a break, Hermione was breathing hard, and Draco was desperately trying not to poke her in the bum with his erection.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to shut me up," she said, giving him a slightly dizzy smile.

Draco laughed.

"I'll take you on a proper date," he said impulsively, shifted her to sit more comfortably on his thighs. "We'll go out to dinner, someplace nice, and then we can go boogie jumping again, or sky diving. Something extreme. Nothing mundane for you."

Hermione laughed.

"You know," she said. She tilted her head and cupped his cheek, her hand soft against his face, and Draco's breath caught in his throat. "The mundane would be okay with you, Draco. You make everything interesting and fun."

"Even the boring routines?" he asked.

"Even the boring routines," she echoed, nodding. "Think about it – we'd be at the breakfast table, and I'd say 'Pass the milk, please', and you'd say 'You have to earn it first, Granger, nothing's free' and then we'd be bickering and snogging all over the breakfast table."

"Bickering like kids again? You think we'd end up like that someday?" he asked, laughing. He paused, and his voice lowered. "Knowing each other that well? Sharing breakfast in the same house?"

Her eyes softened.

"Maybe," she said. "Probably."

Draco felt a thrill.

"Hopefully," he added, giving her a leer. Hermione laughed and poked him.

"I'm not taking you bungee jumping so you can work up the courage to propose to me when that time comes," she informed him, flicking him on the nose. "If you're too scared to do that, I'll do it myself."

"Oh no, you won't," Draco said, snatching her hand. "If we get to that point, I'll give you a proper proposal, with lights and romance and flowers and everything. If you ask me yourself, you'll ruin it all."

"You're being sexist," she informed him. "I'm a liberated modern woman. I can propose to a man if I want to, and it can be just as romantic and memorable as any-"

He sealed his lips over hers again and kissed her heatedly, effectively shutting her up, except for the tiny moans that escaped her throat now and again. He wound a hand through her hair, holding her close to him, and her arms were pulling him closer, her chest pressing up against his.

When they broke apart, they were both flushed.

"-would you care for a nightcap back 'round mine?" Hermione said abruptly. "I've a lovely Merlot, and I also have an Italian coffee you might enjoy-"

Draco laughed and stood up, taking her with him and carrying her in his arms.

"I suspect I'll be much too busy enjoying you," he told her. "I'd object that we're moving too fast, but I've fancied you since forever, and frankly I don't have the self-restraint necessary to make the necessary protestations."

"I'm a modern liberated witch, remember," Hermione informed him. "I can sleep with you whenever I want."

"In that case, I suggest regularly and frequently, with seconds on Tuesdays."

Her eyes danced at him. "Today's Tuesday."

"Oh my," Draco said, feigning innocence. "So it is. Fancy that."

She laughed and kissed him, and he kissed her back, before finally setting her down as they headed toward the apparition point, his hand winding around hers, her fingers entwined with his. Draco glanced down at their joined hands, before he looked up at Hermione and smiled.

Dull or mundane? Never. Life would always be exciting with her.


End file.
